Princeps

42

Vendrei morning Quaeryt woke up in the gloom of the master bedchamber of the villa-a semidarkness relieved by grayness seeping through cracks in and around the shutters that he had closed the night before because the window hangings ordered by Vaelora had not been finished. He bolted upright, swung his feet onto the cold ceramic tile floor before realizing that it was still early.

He glanced around, taking in the sparseness of the chamber that held only the bed, without hangings, two empty night tables and two armoires, in which their clothes had been hung or folded. There were no carpets on the old tile floor, and no chairs. The only items that were new were the horse-hair mattress, two pairs of down pillows, and the bed linens and blankets, as well as a plain green linen bedspread. In fact, from what Quaeryt had seen when he had arrived late on Vendrei afternoon, he wasn’t sure that those weren’t the only new items of furniture or furnishings in the entire villa, not surprisingly, since it would have been impossible to have had anything custom-sewn or fashioned in the time since they had purchased the villa.

While the bedchamber was neat … and sparse, as were the kitchen and the private dining/breakfast room, Quaeryt knew too well that the rest of the villa remained in a state of spare disarray-and that might have been describing the situation generously.

He turned to see Vaelora looking out from under the covers at him.

“It was so good to sleep on a good mattress and linens, wasn’t it?”

Quaeryt had been so tired after moving and shifting everything that Vaelora had wanted moved-again-after he’d left the post on Jeudi night and ridden to the villa that he could probably have stretched out on a thin pallet on the floor and still slept soundly. “It’s a far better mattress than the one in the officers’ quarters.”

“And not nearly so narrow. I could actually stretch out, and it didn’t matter that you sprawled all over the bed. There’s enough room for that.”

“That’s very true.”

“Don’t start the day by humoring me, dearest.”

Now what are you supposed to say to that? “I’m not.” Quaeryt grinned. “If you think I’m humoring you every time I agree with you, then you’re asking for me to disagree.”

“Quaeryt … dearest…” Vaelora’s eyes almost flashed. “I can tell the difference.”

Quaeryt shrugged helplessly. Anything he said was likely to make matters worse. Dealing with Rescalyn and Bhayar was far easier … But then, he hadn’t loved them … or even had to like them.

She laughed. “You are a dear. A stubborn dear, though.” Her arms went around him.

Shortly thereafter, not nearly so long as he would have liked, they washed up and dressed and made their way down to the private dining room.

Rebyah-the cook hired at Shenna’s recommendation-had breakfast ready for them, as if she’d had Alsyra, the maid, listening … which she probably had. A pale blue linen cloth covered the worn and battered table in the private dining chamber, as opposed to the large formal dining chamber that could likely accommodate forty guests, if not more, assuming that they could find or commission a table of that size, along with the matching chairs.

“Good morning, Lady … sir,” said Alsyra, as she set platters before Vaelora and then before Quaeryt. She offered a pleasant and warm smile, as if she were pleased to be serving them … and perhaps she was.

On each platter was an omelet, with strips of ham on the side and a biscuit for Vaelora, and two for Quaeryt. Quaeryt’s omelet was also larger. Then came a pot of tea, with vapor seeping from the spout. Alsyra filled both cups, with saucers-not mugs-of plain bone china, part of a set that Vaelora had located … somewhere.

“Isn’t this better?” asked Vaelora.

“It’s much better.” That Quaeryt had no trouble admitting, none at all, especially since he did like hot tea rather than the lukewarm brews he’d been drinking lately. He also liked their not having to eat with the regimental officers, although he had no doubts they would miss Vaelora. He doubted they’d miss him.

When they finished eating, Vaelora looked to him. “When will you be back?”

“Mid to late afternoon … if there aren’t any problems. Do you need anything from the post?”

She frowned, thinking. “I don’t think so. There’s much to do here. We still need a wagon and a cart horse.”

“And … when we can … we’ll need a coach and a team,” Quaeryt admitted.

“That can wait … for a little while.”

Quaeryt wasn’t about to ask how long that meant.

Since there was no practical way to house a squad of troopers in the space over the villa’s stable, Quaeryt rode to the post with just two troopers as an escort. That seemed more in keeping with his sense of propriety, especially since Extela seemed less unsettled than it had when he had arrived close to a month before and likely as peaceful as it would be for the foreseeable future.

Once he stabled the mare at the post stable, he made his way across the courtyard to the building that held his “official” study. As he stepped through the door, he looked to the duty squad leader. “Any dispatches from Solis?”

“No, sir. No dispatches from anywhere.”

That was good, given that almost any dispatch at the moment would have brought bad news. “Thank you.”

Then he went to find Skarpa. The regimental commander was alone in the post commander’s study.

“Any problems I should know about?” asked Quaeryt, closing the door behind himself.

The commander smiled sardonically. “There are always problems in a regiment. None of them are large enough to involve you. Some rowdy troopers last night, but not in the Pharsi part of the city, and our patrols caught them before the Civic Patrol did.”

Quaeryt hadn’t realized that Pharyl had begun night patrols, but the fact that he didn’t even know was good.

“The other problem is that we’ve had more than a score of mounts dropping or breaking shoes in the last week.”

“You think the farrier in Tilbora had a bad batch of shoes? Or could it be all the riding through the ash here?”

Skarpa shrugged. “Who can tell? The farrier here looks to be good, and we’ve gotten the ailing horses all re-shod. A couple will need a few days of rest.”

“Have you picked up any recruits?”

“A handful. I gave them to Meinyt. He’s good at training them. A few seemed better suited to the Civic Patrol, and I sent them to Hrehn.”

“We can use some good ones.”

“Can’t we all?” Skarpa paused. “I heard you had to let that little idiot nephew of the High Holder up in Ilyum loose.”

“No one could prove anything except that he followed his brother and that he resisted custody. The High Holder is married to Bhayar’s favorite cousin, and he sent an advocate. Guilty as the nephew likely was, there was no way to prove it, and I didn’t see much benefit in gaoling him longer and branding him. He and his ‘uncle’ will be angry enough as it is, especially since Hyleor’s guilty of worse, even if half of it’s not strictly against the laws, and the other half without evidence to prove it. Everyone seems to think he’s not worth the firewood to send him to the Nameless.”

“Don’t envy you, sir. In some ways, fighting the Bovarians might be easier than putting Extela back together.”

Quaeryt laughed. “You might be right … except more people get killed in battle.” A lot more. As he’d discovered, even imagers with shields could get wounded … and if that one quarrel had been just a bit higher and hit his neck, even his shields wouldn’t have saved him. Then again, his shields were better now, but he still couldn’t hold them against constant attacks for a long time.

“That may be, sir, but you can win battles. There’s no way you can win in putting a city back together. There’s always more to do, and always someone unhappy.”

Quaeryt nodded. He hadn’t exactly thought of it in that way. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, either.

When he finished with Skarpa, Quaeryt headed out to the courtyard to brief the captain who had the supply duty. He’d decided that the troopers should not make any statements about if or when they might be back to sell flour. They were only to say that any decision on selling more flour was up to the governor. And once the company and wagons had left the post, Quaeryt needed to check with Major Heireg about the situation with supplies and what needed to go with the regiment when it left for Ferravyl.

After that, amid everything else, he still had to come up with another homily before services on Solayi evening.